Involuntary Transformation
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: As Vernon tries to abuse Harry, he performs accidental magic, transfiguring his uncle into a mosquito. Leave it to Snape to give him an adequate treatment. AU after second year, partly OOC, abuse!Dursleys, char!death Vernon, NOT NICE! Rating! sick!Harry


**Involuntary Transformation**

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_A/N: Please read the warnings in the summary. This story is not NICE like my normal stories - at least not for Vernon Dursley; thus the increased rating!_

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Harry tried to crouch against the farthest corner of his bed, placing both arms in front of his face and head so as to save those body parts from his uncle's belt.

"I'll teach you what it means not to finish your chores," Vernon roared, preparing to strike a blow.

'_My head is already so sore_,' Harry thought, panicking. Ever since Dudley had pushed him down the stairs that morning, he had been suffering from a splitting headache, he had thrown up several times, and he was feeling absolutely horrible. That was also the reason why he hadn't been able to finish his chores.

"Please don't, Uncle Vernon," Harry pleaded, immediately knowing that his uncle wouldn't bother listening to his reasoning.

'_He is as large as an elephant. It hurts when he hits me_,' Harry frantically thought as he felt the belt make contact to his back several times. '_I wished he was a mosquito_,' he thought, panicking.

Only instants later, the angry buzzing of a mosquito penetrated his ears. Harry slowly took his arms down, raising his head in confusion, only to see that his uncle was gone. Instead, a mosquito sat on his hand, biting him several times.

'_Accidental magic_,' Harry mused, terrified. '_How could that happen? What am I supposed to do with him? I have no idea how to change him back_.' "Now stop it and wait. I have to think of a way to change you back," he hissed at the mosquito that was trying to bite his hand over and over again.

Harry spent the next hour pondering what to do, noticing in relief that his uncle seemed to be full and had let go of him. '_I should put him into a box or something_,' he realised, seeing the mosquito sleep on his hand. Slowly dragging himself out of his bed, he looked for an adequate object, finally deciding on the bag with Hedwig's owl treats. '_It has small holes, so he should be able to breathe_,' he thought as he emptied the remaining owl treats into Hedwig's cage, rewarded by a grateful shoo hoo from his familiar. He hurriedly placed the mosquito into the bag, closing it in relief.

'_I should write to Professor McGonagall. She'll easily be able to transform him back. Maybe I could ask her for a headache potion at the same time_,' he pondered, noticing that he felt much worse than before after his accidental magic. '_It's probably not only a headache. I'm nauseous and I feel hot and cold at the same time; perhaps I have a concussion from falling down the stairs_,' a small voice at the back of his mind spoke up.

"Hedwig, would you be willing to take a letter to Hogwarts?" Harry queried, sighing in relief as his familiar agreed immediately. He sat down at his desk, reaching for parchment and a quill.

'_Dear Professor McGonagall,  
I am very sorry, but I used accidental magic to transfigure my uncle into a mosquito, and I don't know how to change him back. Could you help me, please? If you manage to come here, would it be possible for you to bring me a headache potion, please? I fell down the stairs this afternoon, and ever since then I have a terrible headache.  
Yours sincerely  
Harry Potter_.'

'_This sounds very whiny_,' he mused, unaware of the fact that his writing was more that of a six-year-old instead of a soon to be third-year Hogwarts student, because he felt very dizzy and the letters were swimming in front of his eyes.

'_At least he can't bite me anymore_,' he mused as he fixed the letter to Hedwig's leg and watched her take off into the dark night sky, before he let himself sink on his bed, drifting off to fever induced nightmares about his uncle.

HP

Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey and Severus Snape were the only teachers currently residing at Hogwarts. Everyone else including the Headmaster had left for a much needed vacation. The three colleagues usually met for breakfast and dinner in the staffroom, glad that the Headmaster was absent, since he always forced them to have dinner in the incredulously empty Great Hall.

"I need to go to Diagon Alley to buy a few potions ingredients today," Pomfrey spoke up. "Would anyone like to accompany me?"

"Severus, behave yourself," McGonagall scolded her younger colleague as he let out a snort. "Yes, Poppy, I'll come with you."

"Very well. Severus, is there anything you need from the apothecary?" the Mediwitch queried gently.

"I don't think so, but I'll take a look at my ingredients cupboard and inform you later on," the Potions Master promised, following from his obsidian eyes as a snowy white owl made her way into the room.

"That's Hedwig, Harry Potter's owl," McGonagall gasped in surprise, slowly taking the parchment from the owl. "Thank you, Hedwig," she commended the owl, feeding her a small piece of bacon, before she curiously opened the parchment and let out a gasp.

"What has the dunderhead done now?" Snape queried, sighing in exasperation.

"No, look at this," McGonagall replied absently, handing him the parchment. "That looks like the writing of a six-year-old, and what he writes is even more incredulous than his hand-writing."

"Let me see," Pomfrey demanded, glancing over the Potions Master's shoulder. "I think he is delirious," she then said firmly. "If he fell down the stairs and has a headache bad enough to ask you for a potion, he must have a bad concussion. Remember how he normally tries to hide any kind of indisposition from both of us."

"That's true," the Gryffindor Head of House replied, recalling the few times she had dragged the boy to the hospital wing in spite of his protests and assurances that he was fine. "It also should be impossible for a nearly thirteen-year-old to have a bout of accidental magic strong enough to transfigure an adult, a voluminous adult as I've heard, into a mosquito. Very well, I'll go and pay him a visit."

Snape let out another snort. "You don't believe anything of that, do you? I'm sure it's just another way of attracting your attention."

"It's definitely not, Severus. Minerva, take your Emergency Portkey with you. I'll wait in the hospital wing until you return," Pomfrey said firmly, placing her empty cup back on the table.

HP

Harry's mind abruptly returned to awareness as he felt something ice-cold on his forehead. He cracked his eyes open, only to see his Head of House sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him in concern.

"Pfessor," he whispered, noticing that everything around him seemed strangely blurry. "Are you really here?"

"Yes, I am here, Harry. You seem to be very ill," McGonagall replied softly and quickly conjured a bucket, realising just in time that Harry's face turned green, before he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bucket.

"Thank you, Professor. I don't feel so good," Harry mumbled as he lay down again. Suddenly, he remembered the reason for calling the teacher and quickly tried to sit up, only to feel himself being pushed down again. "Professor, I accidentally transfigured my uncle into a fly," he confessed, pointing to the bag on the desk.

"A fly or a mosquito?" McGonagall queried, easing a just conjured thermometer into the boy's mouth, before she stepped over to the table and took a look at the bag. "Well, apparently it's a fat mosquito," she commented, pocketing the bag in her robe pocket, before she sat on the edge of Harry's bed again, gently pushing an errand strand of hair out of his face as they waited for the reading to register.

"You have a very high fever, and I'm going to take you to Hogwarts so Madam Pomfrey can look after you. Will your aunt have a heart attack if I leave through this door to inform her?"

"You don't have to tell her at all. She'll just be glad I'm gone," Harry mumbled, shivering violently.

"Very well; your health has the first priority now," McGonagall decided and gripped Harry's hand, making sure it touched the ring on her left hand as she whispered the activating password.

HP

Harry felt a strange pull behind his navel, before the world around him began to turn and finally became black. When he became aware of his surroundings again and slowly opened his eyes, he realised that he found himself in the hospital wing at Hogwarts in one of the white beds, a white screen shielding him from the blazing sunshine that flooded the rest of the empty room.

"Drink this," a voice instructed him as he felt something pressed against his mouth, causing him to instinctively obey.

'_Water_,' he mused, feeling the cold liquid soothe his hot body.

"What's your name?" the voice queried.

"Harry Potter." The answer came quick and without his doing.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve." '_What's that? I don't want to answer stupid questions_,' Harry mused, horrified when the voice he recognized as that of his Potions professor proceeded to ask about the incident with his uncle and about the harm and abuse he had endured at the Dursleys.

Harry was just about to panic, when the professor told him, "Here, you have to drink the antidote to the Veritaserum. I'm sorry for questioning you, Mr. Potter, but I needed to know how you received the open wounds at your back and what exactly happened at your relatives' home."

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry queried sleepily, averting his eyes to his bed covers.

"Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey had to run an errand. They'll be back in a few hours and asked me to keep you company and look after you. Mr. Potter, I believe you should talk with someone about the abuse."

"Abuse?" Harry asked blearily. "What abuse?"

"Mr. Potter, don't tell me you haven't even noticed you're abused at your relatives' house. Your uncle hit you with a belt, didn't he?"

"Oh well, but it was my own fault," Harry whispered, uncertain what to think about the professor's sudden kindness. "I didn't feel well, and therefore I couldn't manage to finish my chores in time, and he became angry. That's all. It's not a big deal."

Snape pulled himself a chair and sat next to Harry's bed, observing the boy with his dark eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. "Mr. Potter, if an adult willingly harms a child, and with twelve years you are still a child, then it is a big deal. Unfortunately, these things sometimes happen, and as a Head of House I know how to recognize the signs. I'm sorry it took me two years to realise you were abused; however, I intend to help you, provided you want help."

"I'm fine," Harry whispered, feeling very uncomfortable at the unwanted attention.

"Do you want to return to your relatives as soon as you're recovered?" Snape queried sternly.

Harry let out a long sigh. "I probably have to, don't I, Professor?"

"If you don't want to, I'll try to help you convince the Headmaster to let you stay at the castle over the summer, provided one of my colleagues would be willing to become your temporary or even permanent guardian."

"I'd love that, but it would be too much trouble for your colleagues, sir," Harry replied hesitantly, slowly turning his eyes to the teacher.

"I don't think so, and I'm sure we'll find a solution. Your primary concern should be your recovery, which will surely take a few days. In the meantime, I'll speak with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey, and I'm sure they'll help me convince the Headmaster."

"Thank you sir," Harry replied tiredly, fiercely rubbing his forehead against the headache that was coming back full force.

"Don't do that," Snape lightly reprimanded him, gently prying Harry's hands off his forehead. "Your potions have probably worn off. Let me check on you, and then I'll give you the next dose." He waved his wand over the boy, casting a diagnostic spell, before he said, "I'm going to spell the potions into your system, since I don't want you to move your head."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, noticing the effects immediately.

"You're welcome," Snape replied softly, gently tucking the child in. Watching the boy drift off to sleep, he placed a charm on him that would alert him at any change of his condition. Glancing at the fat mosquito in the owl treat bag on the night table, he slid the bag into his robe pocket and strode across the room, smirking.

HP

When Harry's mind slowly returned to awareness, he heard voices next to his bed. Before he was even alert enough to open his eyes, he recognized Professors McGonagall and Snape have a discussion with Madam Pomfrey.

"Severus, I have no problem taking Harry in. You know that his mother was like a daughter to me," McGonagall said firmly. "However, it was you who found out about the abuse, and you have much more experience with abused children than I."

"Exactly, Severus," Pomfrey agreed.

"That may be," Snape replied slowly, "but don't forget that he is a Potter." He spat the last word. "You can ask the boy. He'll never agree with me as his guardian. Let him choose."

"Who knows, Severus? You're the one to whom he spoke about the abuse, and he'll be aware of the fact that you can hardly be worse than his uncle," McGonagall said firmly. "Oh, speaking of his uncle, where is he?" she queried, glancing at Harry's night table.

A small shiver ran through Harry's body at the thought of his uncle still being in his mosquito form, causing him to quickly open his eyes and glance at the night table that was empty except for Madam Pomfrey's card, a bottle with water, a glass, and a few potions phials.

'_Where is he_?' Harry mused, panicking.

"Ah, you're talking about the fat mosquito that was in an owl treat bag?" Snape sneered, only to explain, "I was just looking for such a large mosquito, and in the meantime I brewed a batch of the stomach flu potion. I put it on your desk, Poppy."

"You... what?" McGonagall gasped, throwing her colleague an incredulous look. "You used the mosquito for your potion?"

"Of course. I just needed one," Snape smirked, causing Harry to jerk into an upright position.

"I'm going to be sick," He mumbled, relieving his stomach of its contents in the bucket his Head of House managed to conjure right in time.

"Professor?" Harry turned to the Potions Master, "Did you really use my uncle as potions ingredient?"

"Mr. Potter, what did I tell you about not moving your head? Lie down and stay put. You have a bad concussion, and you will only aggravate your condition if you make yourself so upset," Snape replied in a soft, silky voice. "I merely used a fat mosquito for my potion, nothing else."

"All right," Harry replied and threw the Potions professor a genuine smile. '_I might indeed choose him as my guardian if they ask me, provided he stays as nice as he is today_,' Harry mused, resolving to never get sick with the stomach flu during the next school year.

**The End**

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I'm not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes or help me to correct them._

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story._


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